For the Light
by Jolly Green Giant
Summary: Arryk Lightstone, farmer, husband, father, son, has survived a devistating raid on Goldshire. Rather then try and follow his wife and daughters into the grave, he is compelled to seek out his true calling in Azeroth and achieve redemption in his own eyes.


He sat at his anvil in a far corner of his barn, his hammer rattling and clanging as he hammered out the blade of a plow. Although it was a brisk Autumn day, close to the harvest, he found himself entirely warmed by the hot coals burning in the forge. He paused from his work momentarily to wipe a few strands of sweat from his suety face with his tanned, muscular forearm. In the small moment he had laid down his hammer he heard nothing outside.

He didnt hear the naying of his horses nor the sauntering pace of his cattle nor the squeals of his pigs or the clucking of his chickens. All that he could here was the burning of the coals coming from his forge. The silence was unbearable and was of an unholy nature. The humble farmer decided it was nothing and sat back down to finish hammering out the plow blade when he could have sworn he heard a womanly voice scream his name. "Arryk!" He could have sworn his wife was calling for him.

Arryk stood up and set his hammer down on the anvil and untammed metal to go and see what she wanted. When he got near the vast threshold into the barn he caught a foul smell that his father used to tell Arryk about as a child. The smell of burning wood and of burning flesh. A smell that was associated with death and a smell that was all to common during the First War that his father had fought in for the majority of the prime years of the old mans life.

When he came to the threshold what he was seeing nearly floored him. His home was smouldering under roaring flames. From the windows crimson and orange flames lashed outward, and the thatched roof was now consumed in the flames that were destroying his home. _Sansa_, he thought, worrying for the life of his adoring wife, _maybe she got out_. His wonderings were answered almost immediatly by the lurching in his stomach.

Arryk rushed back inside the barn and over to where the two-handed greatsword used by his father hung, unused for almost five and ten years. Using every ounce of muscle in his thick arms and broad shouldered chest he pulled the greatsword from its mantle, which was adorned with Arryk's family crest, a golden eagle, its wings spread, flying on a field of the staunchest blue.

In awe he clasped the sword in both hands and swung it close to his face, planting a kiss on the blades' blood channel and whispering of the first god that came to mind. _Make my mind steady, my arm sure and my blade undaunting_. He rested his head for a moment on the cold steel and then swept it down to his left side and ran out of the barn.

When he stood out in the golden sun, a ray caught the noble blade and the sword, that his war wisend father had named _Foehammer_, seemed to a sing shrill note as he brought it up to his side and clutched it in both of his strong hands. He made a mad dash for his smoldering home and when he reached the back entrance he chopped the door in half and went inside, searching for his beautiful wife Sansa. It didnt take long, she was laying not seven paces from the entrance, knocked unconscious by a blow to the back of the head, most likely delivered by a mace.

He wrapped her in his arms and dragged Sansa outside. Arryk set her down not far from the back exit and, setting _Foehammer_ aside, he brought his wife into an embrace. "Im so sorry Sansa, if only I got here earlier."

"I...its not your fault Arryk, th...there was nothing you could have done, they were t...too strong."

They kissed deeply and when they came apart Arryk locked eyes with his wife. "I love you Sansa. I have since the day we met." The strong man that Sansa knew seemed to be falling apart before here eyes, his voice and his eyes overcome with smouldering anger, passion, and retribution all at once.

"Oh Arryk, I...love..." Before she could finish her muscles relaxed and her head rolled back further in Arryk's arms. When her eyes shut Arryk came close to breaking down right then and there.

Instead of giving up he laid her down and grabbed his sword. Before dashing off he let his eyes watch her one last time. In a moment he turned to head for the village, in the hopes of saving his son and daughters from the same fate as his beloved Sansa. When he came onto one of the streets of Goldshire he came just in time to watch the smithy cave in under engulfing flames. Laying not far from the entrance into the blacksmith shop was the blacksmith, chopped from naive to crown, his blood and inards pooling around him.

He heard a scream and turned to see a few people of the town rushing out of the inn, screaming deliriously. Inside he could here the din of combat and stepped over a few of the mangled corpses of the Stormwind Guards and charged into the Inn, even as flames errupted from the second floor. Near the entrance was an orc raider moving in to slaughter the Innkeeper's wife. She looked close to Sansa's age and she was cornered, her arm hanging at an ackword angle. The orc was massive and he clutched a pike with a long, serrated blade. It's eyes glowed a fierce light as it thirsted for the womans blood and slowly closed in on her.

Arryk roared and ran at the orc raider, arcing his greatsword in a glorious strike that chopped into the orcs back. The orc yelled savagely and turned away from the cornered woman. Arryk swung again as the orc turned to face him and the blow hacked into the orcs thick arm. With a brutal thrust Arryk retrieved his blade and ducked under a vicious chop of the orcs axe, countering with a kick to the orc's stomach and plunging his sword into the orcs chest while the orc lay on the ground.

The innkeeper's wife ran from the burning Inn and Arryk turned to find more people strewn about the common room, butchered by brutal weapons, his rage burning up within side of him like the flames that were beginning to consume the inn. From atop the stairs he heard a savage yell and saw a Stormwind guard tumble down the stairs, his armor dented and scarred and his helmet and his head crushed by a two-handed greatmace.

The orc who murdered the guard soon followed and when he saw Arryk he lept over the railing and crashed into the floor bellow and his legs buckled under his weight and the sudden impact. Arryk ran at the orc, who roared in protest and swung his mace a moment to soon. In a brutal downward chop Arryk split open the orc's shoulder and blood gouted from the wound and sprayed all over Arryks' chest.

In a flash of motion the orc jumped to his feet and swung at Arryk, who ducked the blow and the mace crashed into a table, crushing it under the tremendous force. Arryk lashed out opened a long, wide gash on the orc's broad chest and issued forth another gout of dark blood. The orc jabbed out with his mace and it struck Arryk in his chest, knocking him back.

Arryk crashed onto the floor and lay stunned for a moment, trying to regain his bearings and become aware of what he was doing. Slowly the orc sauntered over to were the farmer lay. The orc raised his greatmace and swung it down, but Arryk rolled to the side t the last moment and chopped down through flesh, sinew, muscle and bone, and the forearm of the orc that held it's greatmace came free and fell to the ground. A fountain of blood and gore surged forward and covered the floor and the orc only gapped at the wound with dismay.

The farmer finished the orc with a fierce blow that dissembowled the orc and Arryk pushed the orc off of his sword and let him tumble backwards. Arryk soon became aware the most of the inn was now consumed in flames and he ran outside back onto the streets of Goldshire.

When he stood out on the street he now found most of the town in flames and several butchered corpses littered the streets. The smell of blood and burning meat and smoldering homes was palpable in the air. Still Arryk could here the screams; but perhaps these ones were from inside his head. No, the fisherman was still alive for all Arryk knew, perhaps the raiders had gone there to sustain their thirst for blood, having butchered and burned most of the town.

He sprinted to the western shores of Crystal Lake and, indeed found the fishermens house almost entierly consumed in flames. Screams came from inside the home and bodies lay at the entrance. Out in the lake Arryk spotted a boat filled with six people who had tried to escape the slaughter. Now the boat was covered in arrows, a few of the arrows doused with oil and set aflame. The burning boat was still now and the gut wrenching scent of death eminated from the lake.

On the dock Arryk spotted the fisherman, his head bashed against a wooden post and one of his arms torn off. In the water not far from the shore lay one of the fishermans daughters, her back nearly cloven in half by a blow from an axe or a sword. She lay face down in the water and was most likely drowned. Many corpses littered the ground and many of them were the guards and town dwellers. Many more had the look of adventurers.

While he stood there near the shore he had forgotten that raiders still roamed the village. A few of the remnants spotted Arryk and charged at him. Their number was five and they were all orcs, armored in boiled leather and armed with rusted axes and maces. By the time they reached him Arryk was ready. He parried the first few blows, then countered with a disembowling arc that dropped one orc and followed that up with a chop that beheaded another.

Blindly a third orc charged at him and Arryk knocked his weapon down and grabbed the orc and pulled him in close. He held him so that he could snap the orcs' neck in a moments notice. _This one is weak_. Despite him being an orc, the captive raider wasn't strong for his race. Arryk decided upon killing this one last. A fourth orc swung a pair of curving scimitars at Arryks exposed back. Both blades connected with their target and opened up long, crossing slashes on Arryk's back.

Arryk spun blindly and his sword slashed open the raiders throat, issuing forth a spary of blood that covered Arryk's face and chest. The raider dropped one of its scimitar's and brought its hand to its slahed throat in a vain effort to staunch the blood that gushed from the wound and soiled the ground and the orc's chest and armor. When it died it made a vicious gurgling sound and tumbled back into the lake, soon turning the emerald water to crimson.

The fifth and final orc came in screaming for the loss of his three other allies. He struck out at Arryk three times and every strike was met with a strong parry. The fourth strike was knocked wide and Arryk impaled the orc upon_ Foehammer_. With a push and a tug the orc was free of the greatsword and it tumbled back to the ground, were blood spouted from its wound and died. Arryk twisted his arm savagly and the orc's neck that was held in his right arm, snapped like a twig. Lifeless it fell to the ground.

Soon the screams died along with the yells of the bloodthirsty raiders. Arryk's gaze fell to the sky and found it crimson and choked with black smoke. When he turned back to Goldshire he saw three large gouts of thick black smoke lazily coiling up into the sky. It was over and Arryk had taken seven raiders for the death of his beloved Sansa, but he still hadnt found his son and daughters amongst the massacred townsfolk. Maybe they had gotten away before the raid began and taken his two sisters with him, he was, afterall, tending a flock of sheep in the forest, and gods know that his daughters loved to bring their dog and play with Robb and the sheep.

He held his greatsword loosely off to his left and began his gaunt walk back into the town. When he reached the area were the plain road stretched through Goldshire, he found a lone man standing in the middle clutching a greatsword as long as Arryk's, consumed in flame. Arryk stopped in his tracks, waiting to see if this man was with Stormwind or another raider.

The man was taller then Arryk and garbed entierly in long black robes. His hood was drawn up over his head and it masked his face from Arryk. The robed figure noticed Arryk and took to walking towards the fighter, his greatsword still clutched soley in one hand. Arryk took a steadying breath and took up his sword in both hands and brought it up to shoulder level, bracing for a strike.

When the man got close enough Arryk lashed out with his own greatsword, but the flaming sword caught _Foehammer_ and knocked it out of his way. With one hand the figure grabbed Arryk around the throat and lifted him up into the air. The one hand was boney and covered in strands of rotten flesh, tendon and bands of muscle and it was adorned with a plate gauntlet that was black as the night and lined in crimson.

The masked figure looked up at Arryk, who was suspeneded above him. Now Arryk could see a pair of glowing yellow eyes inside folds of the robe and not long after he spotted the glowing eyes the figure pulled the hood of his robe back with the hand that clutched his flaming greatsword. Its head was as dead as the hand, covered in mounds of torn and dying flesh and layers of old dead muscle and sinew. Its jaw hung down at an ackword angle, indicating that it had been broken off from the skull at one point during its life time.

Arryk was staring face to face with an Undead of the Forsaken. He knew it was not a soldier of the Scourge mainly because his father had told Arryk of the Scourge, cold and lifeless, sometimes only skeletons and they muttered in an angry gibberish to communicate. And besides, Arryk could see a pendant dangling down from the rotted neck that bore the symbol of Lordaeron. "You were a human once, w...werent you."

"Yesss."

"Of L...L...Lordaeron."

"Yesss."

The undead lifted his greatsword and layed the tip at the soft bottom of Arryk's throat. In a moment Arryk would be dead, impaled upon this flaming sword. In an effort to save his life Arryk struck the undead with his sword across the belly. The undead reeled and yelled in suprising agony. Arryk wringled free and dropped to the ground and the undead prepared to deliver a downward strike to split Arryk's skull, but then came a thundering from down the road.

It was the sound of a score of armored horsemen from Stormwind. Knights or guards, whomever they were Arryk swelled with a renewed vigor and slashed again at the undead, only this time his sword clamored as it was knocked back off of plate armor. Arryk could see it, gleaming under the robe that Arryk had split with his sword.

The undead looked back and forth at the farmer and the riding knights. It wailed horribly and charged at the knights, wildly brandishing its flaming sword. Arryk watched in horror as its first three strokes dropped four knights and its fourth strike disarmed a fifth knight by chopping off the mans arm. The fire from its sword lept onto the knights and their mounts, soon creating an inferno. As the undead raised its blade for another strike a great warhammer smashed downward into the undead's chest and the fiery undead warrior was knocked back.

The warhammer seemed to gleem in holy light as it recoiled from the strike and the attacking knight reached out with his hand and a bolt of light shot towards the undead and caught it square in the chest, knocking it back off its feet again. This time the undead reeled in horror and ran from the score of knights and the burning village and off into the setting sun and dissapeared into Elywnn Forest.

Arryk got himself to his feet and slung his greatsword over his back. He took a measure of Goldshire now that the carnage was done. Every building was claimed in crimson flame and the whole village, if not most of Elywnn now, smelled of death, burning flesh and roaring fire. Many of the townsfolk lay strewn about the streets, hacked and mangled by axes and swords. A few had tried to get away, but they were only hunted down and slaughtered by the brigands.

"You there, warrior, what happened here?"

It took Arryk a moment to realize that he was the warrior in question and that the one asking him was the knight who struck down the undead and forced it to flee. "Raiders, my lord, mostly orcs, they left none alive and nothing untouched by their flames. All the livestock have been slaughtered, as the townsfolk have."

"And you did you come to survive this raid?"

"I was working in my barn, casting a new iron blade on my old broken plow, my lord. When I paused from my work I noticed the sound of the eerie silence and when I went to see want was going on, I found my home in flames and I could see more black smoke coming from Goldshire. Thats when I went for my sword and charged off into the village."

"How many raiders would you say were here?"

"I slew seven, my lord, but I got here as most of it was finished. The blacksmith shop had collapsed under flame and the smith himself lay there, on the ground, split from crown to naive. The Inn was burning and they were taking to murdering the innkeepers wife. My guess was that by the time I arrived many of the raiders had already moved on."

The knight nodded. "Sir Jeor, take these knights and ride to Northsire, Sir Theon, ride back to Stormwind and gather more mounted knights. Send half to Sentinal Hill and see if Lord Stoutmantle needs aid, then take your half and ride to Lakeshire. From their have both halves of your mounted force to ride on Darkshire and when it is done return here for report."

Both of the knights nodded and rode off into the dusk to complete their assigned taskes. A few of the men assigned to Sir Jeor remained at Goldshire to see what had taken place first hand, and to make sure the dozen and a half or so orcs that had fallen here were truly dead. The knight who had questioned Arryk and appeared to be in command dismounted and walked towards Arryk, his two handed warhammer bouncing on the plate armor that covered his back. His cloak was a noble blue and bore the standard of Stormwind. His armor was lamellar plate armor, a shimmering gold, his helm was winged, and one pauldron bore an eagle with its wings spread and his armor was adorned with pieces of parchment on which were scribbled wards and runes and the deeds this man had completed. His tabard bore the insignia of the Order of the Silver Hand. He was a Paladin, and Field Marshal of the Grand Alliance.

"Tell me, noble warrior, did you loose any family in this vicious raid?"

"Aye, my lord paladin, my wife, Sansa was slain by these orc bastards and she died in my arms, and I have not yet found my son, Robb, a boy of twelve, nor my two daughters, Kelly, a girl of ten and Lysa, a girl of thirteen."

"Take heart noble warrior, these orcs shall be brought to justice and every one of their heads shall adorn the high walls of Stormwind. We shall have our retribution for this raid and you shall have justice for the murder of your wife. Tell me, what does your son Robb look like and your daughters, in the case I should find them wandering the streets of Stormwind or one of the other towns of this kingdom?"

"Robb is around one half and five feet tall, tall for his age, and he has auburn hair that hangs to his shoulders. His eyes are blue, like his mothers were and he is thick of build and both of my daughters are around the same height as each other, Lysa standing a few inches taller, both share my hair and the blue eyes of their mother."

The paladin clapped Arryk on the shoulder. "And what, may I ask, is your name, noble warrior."

"I am Arryk Lightstone, farmer, father, husband, son, and now warrior I guess."

"Lightstone," the paladin said thoughtfully, "that name sounds familiar to me, I just cant put a finger on it."

"My father, his name was Anduin Lightstone, he was a hero in the First Great War, at least he was treated like a hero around here."

"I remember a man by that name. He was a Knight-Champion, always had the right words to say to the new recruits right before a battle, he saved dozens of lives and often times in battle he seemed to have no regard for his own life. Is...is that his sword?"

"Yes," Arryk said, holding up_ Foehammer_, "He always told me my time to fight would come, that even Robbs time to fight would come. For the past five and ten years its been hanging my barn, a testament to what my father has done and what my son Robb will do."

"Anduin told me something once, that a sword wasnt ment to hang up in a room somewhere, not a true sword, not a sword thats tasted blood. This is your time Arryk"

"Maybe it is my time, after all I have nothing left, nothing to live for, for all I know my daughters and Robb are dead. But I dont know what I would do? Would I have the sense to join up with the army, or would I crumble into drink and depression and oblivion, or would I take this _Foehammer_ and vanish off into the night blinded by retribution and vengence and thisrting for the blood of orc?" Arryk asked, holding up his gore smeared blade.

The paladin frowned slightly. "For a lesser man, that might be a fitting end, but for you? I think not, instead of following your wife to her grave, you drew your father's blade and came here seeking justice and justice you shall have."

They continued to search throughout the smoldering remains of Goldshire and the surrounding area, looking for possible survivors and what became of Arryk's children. Outside of Goldshire they came to the plain that Robb tended his flock of his fathers sheep. Not to Arryk's surprise the sheep were slaughtered. He and the paladin sifted through the corpses praying that Kelly and Lysa and Robb wouldnt show up. After a few moments Arryk came upon the girls beloved dog, a terrier they had named Miggles. Arryk dug a small hole for the dog and buried it deep enough so the wolves wouldnt get to it. The dogs muzzles was covered in the dark blood of an orc along with the froth of a mad dog.

Arryk and the paladin continually searched the pasture and found a few orcs, butchered with a sword, which Arryk found broken off in the chest of an orc, the hilt not to far away. It was the hilt of the sword Arryk had given Robb. A glimure of hope fluttered through Arryk. It was crushed the moment he found two corpses not fifty paces from the slain orcs. Sure enough they were his two daughters. They both had arrows buried in their backs and bellies cut open, their tanned faces now pale as ghosts. Tears welled up in his eyes and he brought them close to his face.

He sat for a moment weaping for the loss of his wife and two beautiful daughters. The paladin stood behind Arryk solemnly. While Arryk coped with his loss the paladin continued to search the site for anything. The green grass was stained crimson with the innocent blood of the two girls and even the paladin fet the urge to ride off into the night and bring his own justice to the surviving raiders. No doubt when word reached Lakeshire, Sentinel Hill, Darkshire, and Northshire there would be enough folk drawing arms and leading hunting parties for these ruthless murderers.

As the paladin searched around something caught his eye. Underneath a rock was jammed a piece of parchment. The paladin opened it and found a hastily scrolled message to anyone who found it.

_The two girls you have found in the pasture are my sisters, Lysa and Kelly, please take them away from here and have them burried. Im leaving this land in search of training with a sword and seeking vengance against these orcs who have massacred Goldshire. One day, a long time from now I hope to return home, but not now, now everything has changed for me. If it please you find my father, Arryk Lightstone or my mother Sansa Lightstone as it may please them that I live and that three orcs fell at my sword in defense of my sisters._

_Robb Lightstone, son of Arryk and Sansa Lightstone, proud son of Goldshire and of Stormwind_

"Bless his heart." The paladin thought aloud.

Arryk looked up from his daughters and the paladin could see his eyes were swollen with tears and his face was puffy and red. "What is that paladin?"

"Your son, Robb, he lives yet. Look, he penned this letter in hast before he ran from here."

Quickly Arryk got to his feet and accepted the letter and scanned it. "I wasnt aware that simple farmers could read or write?"

Arryk paused for a moment and looked up from the letter. "Most of us cant. But my father could read and write, he was taught it while he served Stormwind in the First Great War. When he returned from the war he tought my brothers and I how to read and write, and in turn, I tought my children. Robb loved to read and write and on his last name day his mother got him a quill, parchemnt and an ink well. He took to carrying it around with him."

When he was done explaining, Arryk's gaze fell back to the parchment. "He means to go and learn the ways of the sword and to gain vengence for the raid on Goldshire. Bastard, he has a just heart but he will be killed. I have to go find him."

Arryk got to his feet but the paladin held him back with a mail and plate clad fist. "Arryk, your place is here for now. To bury your daughters and your wife, to live. Robb will show up in time."

It took a moment for what the paladin had said to register for Arryk. "I wouldnt be able to sleep with the idea that Robb is out there, then again I couldnt bring my self into oblivion either, knowing it would orphan the boy. True enough, I will stay, noble paladin. Stay and bury my wife and daughters and I think I shall stay at Northsire for a while, to pick myself up again."

"Wonderful and perhaps at Northshire you shall find a calling to train as a soldier of the Grand Alliance."

Arryk turned back as if he didnt here what the paladin had said. In a grim manner Arryk collected the corpses of his daughter and began his trek back home, the paladin following in his wake. It wasnt as far a wake as it had been out to the pasture but the pair had to sneak past a mine of kobold soldiers and a nest of vicious, venomous spiders. Arryk and the paladin arrived at what once was Arryk's home. His house was completely burned to the ground now, but the barn remained unscathed by the raid.

His livestock had been slaughtered and his crops set to flame. Arryk brought his daughters over to the patch of land where Arryk's father Anduin was burried then went to bring Sansa over as well. He dug graves for each of them and buried them all under a large oak tree whoes branches seemed to open up like an umbrella and cover the family graveyard. After a half an hour of digging and burrying, Arryk was finished. He stood back, a lone tear rolling down his cheek.

The paladin raised his hand and cast a spell over the small field. An angelic light filtered down through the forest and made the graveyard glow with a heavenly light. "An acknowledgment to a hero of the Grand Alliance and his brave daughter-in-law and granddaughters. This blessing will remain for years, a reminder to all that in war no one is spared."

Arryk nodded solemnly towards the paladin. "What of Goldshire?"

"It shall be rebuilt, most likely by the sweat and blood of Lakeshire, Sentinell Hill, Darkshire, and the Abbey. People will come to live here again."

"And what of the orcs?"

"They most likely havan't gotten far. They may have headed off to Northsire or scrambled for the Eastvale Logging Camp, or made a dash for the other towns of this kingdom. I have a feeling that by the morrow we shall here tell of what has become of the orc raiders. One thing is certain, by the time Ser Theon reachs Darkshire he will have other soldiers with him,and willing volunteers thirsting for orc blood."

Again Arryk stood silent, eyes gaze wandering between the four graves. "I should be headed for Northsire."

The paladin looked over and clapped him on the shoulder. "I shall accompany you. It is only fair that I speek with Marshal Macbride and see that you take up residence in the Abbey, maybe have one of the guards train you further in the art of swordsmenship before you head off on your way."

Arryk nodded in a grim manner. "To Northsire then?"

"To Northsire."


End file.
